


The Tarmac at Albuquerque

by sarken



Category: Political RPF - US 21st c.
Genre: Competition, Gen, POV Second Person, Playing Games, Political Campaigns
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-06-09
Updated: 2005-06-09
Packaged: 2017-10-07 19:26:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/68400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarken/pseuds/sarken
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At a photo-op in Albuquerque, Kerry and Edwards throw around a football.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Tarmac at Albuquerque

**Author's Note:**

> This story is based on an AP photo and its caption.

Your fingers settle between the white laces and the words "go long" rest on your tongue, but you can't flash a pretty smile while yelling across the tarmac. He's the upper half of this ticket; he should be able to figure it out for himself.

You throw the football, waiting and wanting to see it fly past him. You want to see just one mistake, but you hear the cameras click as he jumps and catches it. He smiles and throws it back to you. As it travels through the air, he yells to you. "A little high, John," he says, and now you're the screw-up.

You feel the familiar sting of a perfect spiral connecting with your hands. The caption will read _John Kerry throws a football to running mate John Edwards at the airport in Albuquerque_. It's never _John Edwards catches a football thrown by John Kerry_ or even _John Kerry and John Edwards play football on the tarmac at Albuquerque_. You're never his equal; you're just here to be the name that holds his up.

Your aim is nonexistent when you throw the ball. He has to run to catch it, and he holds it up victoriously. It's the same way he lifts your hand into the air at campaign rallies: _look at what I've conquered_.

But this photo-op is supposed to showcase you and your energy, so he sends a challenge your way. He throws the football to your left, making you reach for it. You stretch toward it, get your fingers around it, lose your grip. It does its funny little football bounce and stops directly in front of you.

The cameras stop clicking and flashing, and everyone is staring at you as you stand there, upright and empty-handed with the ball at your feet. You stare for an eternity before remembering to pick it up. When you straighten, John's hand is on your back and he's saying he's tired, too.

His actions contradict that when he takes the football from you and tosses it back and forth in his hands before draping an arm around your shoulders. As he guides you toward the press gaggle, you notice he hasn't even worked up a sweat.

"John here played football in high school," he says, and you're certain you never told him that. He tosses the ball to nearby aide and grabs one of your hands, rubbing his thumb across the back of it. "Look at those soft hands!" he says to the press, and the reporters immediately reach for their notebooks. "A good receiver."

As they finish scribbling and photographing, John continues stroking your hand and you begin to forget about the football game. When the cameras stop, he wraps his hand around yours and raises them toward the sky. The height difference is just enough to make your muscles protest, reminding you of the painful stretch that led to the embarrassing fumble moments ago. You grin and bear it, though, because you're a good receiver.


End file.
